


Safehouse

by Hadespuppy



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Coldflash Valentine's Day Exchange 2019, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Injured Barry Allen, Leonard Snart is a good caretaker, M/M, No Nora, Not Flash season 5 compliant, but offscreen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-10-30 19:46:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17835002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hadespuppy/pseuds/Hadespuppy
Summary: When Barry gets injured in a fight and his powers are compromised, he needs a safe place to hole up and heal while the rest of the team tracks down his shadowy assailants. He doesn't expect the safehouse to already be occupied, especially not by a man who is supposed to be dead, and who surprisingly knows his way around a can of chicken and stars. Getting hurt may just be the best thing that's ever happened to him.





	1. Broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sublightsleeper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sublightsleeper/gifts).



> I'm sorry it is late, and am so glad [meowitskatmofo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17785547) was able to step in and pinch hit so you don't have to wait for this to be done. It kind of grew on me, heh. 
> 
> More or less canon compliant up to the end of season 4, except Iris and Barry never went through with the wedding, and Barry was able to stop the satellite crash on his own.
> 
> Finally, thanks to the ever wonderful [Thette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thette/pseuds/Thette) for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Light. Bad light.

Barry closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

Ow.

Ok, not so deeply. He tried opening his eyes again, slower. The light still hurt, but it was more bearable now that he was prepared for it. He must’ve made a noise, because Caitlin was right there, fussing over the machines near his head and saying something Barry couldn’t quite follow. He lifted a hand to slow her down, and wow, his everything hurt, more than he could remember hurting in a long time.

He groaned, and Caitlin put a gentle hand on his arm.

“Hey, welcome back,” she said with a smile.

“Wh-” Barry’s throat was dry, and the words cracked. He swallowed and tried again, “What happened?’

Caitlin’s face fell a little, “We were hoping you could tell us. You went to break up that arms deal Oliver told us about, but your comms cut out, and by the time Cisco and I got to you, you were pretty beat up, and they were gone. You don’t remember any of that?”

Barry frowned, closed his eyes to think without the light stabbing into his brain. Flashes of memory came to him, like a dream. “I remember going to the docks,” he started slowly, “the comms were going funny, so I told you to give me ten minutes to check it out. I think I saw the guys, but then there was something behind me, a drone maybe, and then...” he trailed off helplessly.

“It’s ok, Barry,” Caitlin said, running a soothing hand over his forehead. “You have a pretty bad concussion, not to mention three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a sprained knee, and a whole lot of bruises. It’ll come back to you.”

Barry kept his eyes closed. That sounded like a long list of injuries, and something about that bothered him. He got into fights all the time, and he was never beat up this bad. But maybe it just hadn’t been long enough for his healing to catch up. “How long have I been out?” he asked.

This time Barry could _hear_ Caitlin frown. “Almost a full day.”

“Why— ?” he didn’t even need to finish the question.

“It’s my fault, Barry. I didn’t realise you weren’t healing right away, and when I finally did I took blood samples, but the damage seems to be done, at least for now. We found nanites in your blood that are somehow preventing your cells from regenerating. They might even be cutting you off from the speedforce. Cisco and I have been trying to figure out how they work so we can stop it, but they keep degrading on us before we can fully analyse them.”

In his hazy state, Barry only followed about half of her explanation, but what she said about the speed force sent an icy shock through him. He remembered being cut off from it before, and how awful and empty he had felt. He reached for it desperately, searching for that warm crackling lightning that had become so much a part of him. He could sense it, like a warm glow just out of reach, but that was all. In his panic, he clutched at Caitlin’s arm, pulling himself up to search her face.

“I can’t-. It’s there, but I can’t touch it. Do you think you can fix it?”

Caitlin seemed startled by his sudden movement, but quickly moved to sooth him, “We’ll figure it out Barry, don’t worry. Right now I need you to concentrate on resting so you can get better. I know you’re not used to doing this the slow way, but you’ll just have to deal with it for now.”

She gently removed his hand from her arm and helped him lie comfortably back down on the bed. Barry still had questions, but he was so tired and she was so insistent, tucking the blanket around him and making sure all the various wires and sensors were out of his way. Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a bit…

 

* * *

 

The next time when Barry woke, the lights were dim. He still ached all over, but it seemed distant somehow, unimportant. The full feeling in his bladder was a far greater concern. As he moved to sit up, he saw Iris dozing in the chair next to his bed. He tried his best to be quiet getting out of the bed, but when he put his weight down on his bad knee it buckled under him unexpectedly and he flailed to keep upright, sending the IV stand clattering away.  Iris woke with a start and was instantly at his side, helping Barry steady himself.

“You should have said something, I would have helped you!” she admonished, but he could see the worry in her eyes. He hated doing this to her. It was half the reason he had tried not to wake her in the first place.

“I know,” he said, trying not to lean on her too much, “you just looked so peaceful. And if you managed to fall asleep on one of those chairs, you must’ve been pretty tired.”

She gave a short laugh, then squeezed his shoulder. “If I hadn’t stayed Dad would’ve, and he had the early shift at the precinct tomorrow.”

Barry smiled. Of course Joe would make sure someone was with him until he woke up. A sharper pain stabbed into his eyes as they left the dim room into the brighter lights of the main lab. Damn, he missed his healing abilities.

“How did the research go, did they find anything?” he asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Iris looked at her hands before she spoke, and he knew the news wasn’t good. “They’re working on it, Barr, I don’t think either of them have been out of the lab in hours.”

Barry looked away. He hadn’t let himself have much hope, but hearing that they weren’t making progress hurt all the same. “And they haven’t come up with anything?” he asked finally.

“I don’t —” Iris was saved from having to explain things she didn’t fully understand by Cisco swanning through the door holding a tablet.

“Oh good, you’re up,” he said, hustling to Barry’s side and comparing his notes to readings from the various machines that were monitoring Barry’s vitals. “We wanted to run a few tests and the sooner we can get the data the better.”

“What do you know about the nanites?” Barry asked. This at least seemed like progress.

Cisco gave him a wry grin. “I can tell you that if I had designed them, I’d’ve done a much better job.” At Barry’s confused look, he continued, showing Barry a shifting blob-like animation on his tablet. “These things are supposed to be self replicating, so your immune system can’t just take them out like a normal infection. And they are, they’re breeding like little microscopic rabbits in there. But the thing is, they’re so poorly cobbled together that they degrade almost instantly. They hardly have a chance to work at all. It’s a miracle they’re doing as good a job of suppressing your powers as they are.”

Cisco looked quickly at Barry as if realising what he had just said. “Not that I want them to do a better job, I mean—”

Barry cut off his stammered apologies with another question, “So do you know where they came from, or how to stop them?”

“That, we’re still working on. It’s hard to study them in detail with how quickly they degrade, but they look like some of the military tech we’ve seen. If someone who barely knew what they were doing bootlegged it and built it in the dark. As for stopping it, we still haven’t figured out _how_ they’re working, so that’s a bit harder. But there is a bright side.” His fingers flew over the tablet and the shifting blob started to shrink, slowly at first, then faster and faster. “We think the nanites are breaking down faster than they’re replicating. So even if we can’t figure out how to destroy them, they should just die out eventually.”

“How long?”

“Hard to say, that’s one of the things I wanted to test. See how many of the little buggers you had compared to a few hours ago.”

Barry nodded. It hurt a little and he thought that what he really wanted to do was go back to the bed he hadn’t even fully gotten out of. But he’d do anything to get his powers back, no matter how many tests it took. He smiled and nodded at Cisco. “Whatever you need. But first you gotta help me to the washroom. I need to pee like something else.”

A few hours, two rounds of scans, and one much shorter nap later, Barry was sitting up in his bed, with Caitlin, Cisco, Joe, and Iris gathered around him, going over the conclusions they had made.

“I’m not sure how we can interrupt their replication cycle, it’s just too quick, and anything we try is going to hurt you too Barry,” Caitlin was saying. “We have no guarantees that whatever we try will work, and with you unable to heal right now, I just can’t take that risk.”

“At least we know they’re dying out,” Cisco added. Two weeks at the most and they’ll be all gone. Not that we’ll stop looking for ways to kill them right away” he added quickly.

Barry let out a frustrated sigh. They knew more than they had before, but he felt so useless just sitting there. He couldn’t imagine doing it for two weeks, never mind enduring the natural healing of his injuries.

“What is it, Barry?” Iris asked. She was always good at reading his moods. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go get the guys who did this, and keep them from using the weapons they just bought,”  he said, then huffed a short laugh as a too-deep breath sent a stab of pain through his chest. “I also want to get my powers back so everything I do doesn’t hurt so much.” He gave Caitlin a small smile of thanks as she checked the time, then passed him a couple of pills from a container in one of her pockets. “Although being able to take painkillers is kind of a refreshing change.”

He swallowed the pills dry, then continued. “I know you guys are doing everything you can, I’m just not good at sitting here doing nothing.”

“You are doing something, Barr,” Iris said, “You’re healing so you can get back out there again.”

Joe squeezed his shoulder. “I know it’s not exactly your usual speed, but you can hang out with me and Cecile while these guys figure it out.”

Barry smiled at them. Two weeks. He could do this. “Thanks guys.”

“Hey, did someone order flowers?” came a voice from the hall, and Ralph came into the lab carrying a square vase filled with sunflowers .

Cisco moved to intercept him. “Uh, no, definitely not.” he said quickly, taking the vase and moving it to an isolation chamber. He plucked a card from the little stick before sealing them in.

“I thought they were kind of pretty,” Ralph mumbled to no one in particular.

Cisco scrutinized the card, reading it and then flipping it over in his hand as if to look for clues. “I think we may have a problem guys.” he said, and handed the card to Barry. “It’s for you.”

Barry read the card and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. _BA. Wishing you a_ _speedy_ _recovery._ He too flipped the card over in his hands, but it was generic cardstock, without any other identifying marks, not even a florists.

He passed the card wordlessly to Joe, who immediately exclaimed. “You aren’t staying here. Is he ready to come home, Caitlin?”

Caitlin nodded. “I’ll need to monitor him, but all he really needs now is rest, regular meals, and to take his drugs when he needs them.”

“I’m right here, guys,” Barry cut in, “and I’m not going home with you, Joe. They know who I am, which means they’ll be watching you too. I can’t let you take that kind of risk. Especially not with a new baby in the house.”

Joe opened his mouth to object, but Barry held up a hand to forestall him. “I’m not going. And I’m not going to stay with any of you guys either, “ he said, looking hard at the others before they could make the same suggestion. “It’s bad enough they know this much. You should probably all make yourself scarce for a while. At least until we get this figured out or I get my speed back and we can get these guys for good.”

“So where will you go?” Ralph asked, “Another earth?”

“No way,” Joe objected. “What about Star City?”

Cisco shook his head. “They’ve got their own problems. We’d probably be safer just staying here. And with this being military tech, I’m not sure I trust ARGUS either.”

Caitlin looked thoughtful, “I think I have an idea, but I’m not sure you’re going to like it,” she said.


	2. Safehouse

Barry looked up at the dingy apartment building skeptically. “This is the place?” he asked. 

“That’s the address,” Caitlin said, sounding equally dubious. 

Joe stood beside her, glowering. He had been against the plan, but eventually he’d gotten outvoted. He’d insisted on coming along to get Barry settled, just in case. 

It was a squat red brick building on a moderately busy street. The front was accented with white stone lintels over the windows and peeling green paint on the wood trim. It was only three stories tall, but still Barry was glad that when they used the key Mick had given them, they went through the sickly green front door and down a half flight of stairs to the basement instead of going up. There were only two apartments in the basement, one on either side, and a hall leading to what looked like storage and maybe laundry. Joe let them in to the apartment on the right, and Caitlin and Barry followed. 

There was a couch just to the right of the door, and Barry sank into it gratefully. After Caitlin had suggested contacting the Waverider, they’d gotten a another delivery to STAR Labs, this time a bunch of forget-me-nots with a farewell card. Joe had insisted that the lab must be bugged, and while Cisco had taken it as a personal offence, he had to concede that there was no other explanation for the mysterious florist to know that Barry was planning on leaving for a few days. 

Of course that had meant that they had to leave right away, which meant rushing around getting everything Barry would need for a few weeks in the safehouse, including a pair of crutches to get around with and a set of burner phones for the whole team, because if they could hack into the Labs, who knows what else might be compromised. And then they’d taken the most circuitous route possible, with Joe’s frown growing darker every time they’d hit some kind of snag. After all of that, Barry was exhausted. He wanted to take more pills, but it wasn’t time for his next dose yet. He’d checked. Twice.

Instead he looked around the apartment while Caitlin and Joe brought in the supplies they’d gathered. It was a studio apartment, not huge by any means, but with enough space and light from the four windows to not feel cramped. The door opened into the middle of the place, and directly across from it a built in cabinet jutted out from the long wall, forming a sort of barrier that  separated it into two halves. On the one half was a sitting area made up of the ugly couch where Barry was sitting, along with an equally hideous loveseat and a corner coffee table, as well as a bedroom of sorts made with a dresser against the back of the built in cabinet and what looked like a surprisingly plush bed half hidden behind a painted screen. 

The other half was a kitchen/dining/ office area, with cheap cabinets and older looking appliances, but enough supplies and cooking tools to make Joe grunt in approval as he poked through the cupboards, putting things away. There was a tiny folding table with two chairs along one wall, and the built in cabinet had been turned into a desk, although there was an empty space where a computer might go. There was one closet at the far end of the same wall as the door, where a light coming from behind the kitchen would seem to indicate a bathroom. 

All in all, it was not bad. A little dingy for sure, but nothing worse than the kind of place Barry or his friends had lived in during college, once they got sick of dorm life. It certainly wasn’t the “moldy couch in an abandoned warehouse” Barry had pictured when Caitlin first suggested asking Mick if he still had any safehouses in the city. It was even reasonably clean. Apparently they’d paid someone to keep the place liveable, and Mick had never gotten out of the habit, even though he was happy with the Legends. Always good to have a plan B, he’d said, sounding oddly like Len. 

Joe had finished bringing in Barry’s bags and was double checking the bars on the windows (all locked and secure; and probably necessary for a ground level apartment in this neighbourhood) while Caitlin made sure Barry knew where his drugs were and pinned her instructions on the fridge with a bright blue snowflake magnet that had made her snort. In big block letters on the bottom it said CHECK IN NIGHTLY. Otherwise they were going as radio silent as possible, to keep their unknown assailants from tracing Barry to his new location. 

“Ok, I think that’s everything,” she said looking around to make sure everything really was in its place. 

“Are you sure you want to stay here alone,” Joe said, worry etched across his face. “We can still-”

Barry rolled his eyes, feigning a lightness he didn’t feel. “I’ll be fine, Joe,” he said, “I’ve got that laptop Cisco loaded up with terrible movies, and I’m probably going to sleep most of the time anyway. Besides, you guys will probably come up with a way to fix me just as I’m getting comfortable.”

Joe nodded, clapping Barry on the shoulder. “Just. Be careful, Barr. And call us if you need anything.” 

Barry clasped Joe's wrist, squeezing it firmly. “The same goes for you guys. Be careful out there.” 

Caitlin’s eyes flashed ice white. “Don’t worry about us, Barry. Me’n Ralph can take care of things while you’re gone.” 

Barry had never been more glad to see Killer Frost. “I know, and thanks,” he said. 

The ice faded, and Caitlin bent to give Barry a tight hug before none-to gently herding Joe to the door. “Remember your check ins, and no more than the doses I gave you,” she admonished, and then they were gone. 

Barry sank into the ugly couch with a sigh. Now that he was alone, he didn’t have to keep up the brave face he’d been putting on. He still hurt, and he was tired, and this apartment, surprisingly nice as it was, seemed empty and cold now that he was alone. He just wanted this to be over. 

He eyed the kitchen. It seemed a long way away. But if he grabbed a drink and a snack now, maybe hit the washroom, he could curl up in the bed and stay there for a good long while. Mind made up, he pulled himself out of the couch and started to reach for his crutches, then decided that it wasn’t that far, and there was enough furniture between him and the fridge that he could get there on his own. 

He made it there, found the washroom to be about the same as the rest of the apartment, although the ancient clawfoot tub that dominated the small room was a pleasant surprise, and had almost gotten back to the kitchen before his knee gave out on him and he found himself on the ground with a painful thud. 

“Fuck.” he said to the empty apartment. He twisted himself to look for something he could pull himself up with. The doors of the closet looked a bit flimsy, if he were honest, and everything else was out of reach. He’d have to crawl until he could get to the kitchen chairs. It wasn’t that far, maybe four feet, but in that moment if felt like miles. He closed his eyes to gather his strength, and immediately felt a bit better. Maybe here wasn’t such a bad place to rest for a bit. No, he’d regret that decision and he knew it. Just for a moment then, until his knee stopped shouting at him and he could breathe properly again. Or as well as he could breathe with his cracked ribs. God he was a mess. Just a little longer, then he’d get up. 

Was that a key at the door? Fuck. Just his luck they’d come back and see him like this. Joe would never leave him alone now, and he couldn’t have that responsibility. Barry turned and pulled himself to the chair, and started pulling himself up to at least get seated, but his head swam at the sudden movement, and he ended up on his elbows, gripping the chair legs like they were a life raft and he was at sea. He heard footsteps, something being put down, then an impossible voice. 

“Scarlet?”


	3. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry's unexpected visitor reveals himself.

It couldn’t really be him. Had Caitlin said anything about hallucinations as possible concussion symptoms or side effects to the painkillers she’d given him? Barry wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t think right now, not with heavy boots approaching and a growing lump in his throat. He closed his eyes tight. This had to be a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d dreamt of Len just showing up in the strangest of places, but those dreams had usually involved much less lying on the floor in such a pathetic position.

If this was a dream, it was an awfully realistic one. There was a touch at his shoulder, strong arms helping him to his feet, then half carrying him to the bed, deft fingers slipping off his shoes  and tucking him under the covers. Barry didn’t say anything, barely even opened his eyes; part of him was afraid that if he did he’d break the spell and he’d still be lying helplessly on the floor, and Len would still be dead. The footsteps faded away, and he choked back something that might have been a sob. But when they returned and pressed something small and hard into one hand and a half full glass into the other, he had to see.

Len was there, a smile playing at his lips, something unreadable in his eyes. He waited for Barry to swallow the pill, then took the glass and set it on the bedside table. His hand lifted partway, as if to touch Barry, hesitated, then fell back by his side.

“Always seem to be rescuing you,” he said quietly.

Barry reached out to touch him. Just a brush of fingers, but it was real. It was enough. “Thanks,” he murmured, and let his eyes fall closed as sleep took him again.

 

* * *

 

When Barry woke (and wasn’t that his life lately, always sleeping and then waking to find everything had changed again?) he took a deep breath before he opened his eyes and looked around the apartment. He couldn’t say whether he expected to find it empty or not, but something in his chest loosened when he saw the familiar form sitting on the end of the couch, seemingly engrossed in a book. So it hadn’t been a dream, or if it had, he was still in it, and that might as well be the same thing.

He let his eyes wander over the other other man, taking in every detail. He seemed relaxed, comfortable in the space, but then Len had always made a show of being relaxed no matter the situation. There was a packed duffle on the floor by his feet, and his trademark parka was draped over the back of the couch beside him. He licked his finger to turn the page, and Barry followed the motion with his eyes, wetting his own lips unconsciously. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, grunting a little with the effort.

Len looked up instantly at the noise, though he hardly moved anything but his eyes. They seemed to pin Barry in place. Barry had forgotten that ability he had, to see inside him somehow with just a look.

“Finally decided to rejoin the living, I see,” he drawled. “I was starting to think you might not wake up before I left.”

There were too many thoughts in Barry’s head, all jumbled together. “Left, what? You’re going? What are you even doing here? How?” he snapped his mouth shut before he could babble any more questions.

Len was smiling at him. He closed his book, put it carefully beside him, and laced his fingers together over his lap. “Well I had been staying here recently, but if you’re moving in, I might as well move on. How did you find this place anyway?”

“We, um, we asked Mick,” Barry said, suddenly feeling like he was the one intruding.

Len raised an eyebrow. “I see. So he’s settled in with the Legends then, doing the hero thing?”

Barry nodded, “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, we don’t talk to them that much, but he seems to be alright. He gave us the key to this place, anyway.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “You haven’t talked to him?”

Len’s eyes tightened just for a moment, and then his usual cool expression was back. “You know how it is, coming back from the dead. Doesn’t exactly make for an easy conversation.”

Barry didn’t know, not really, but he had too many other questions. “But how, Why?”

Len looked down at his fingernails as if this were an ordinary conversation. “Can’t really say. I wasn’t, then I was. This seemed like a good enough place to get used to being a person again. Guess I’ll have to find somewhere else now. “ He stood and turned to grab his things. Barry was suddenly gripped with the sense that if he let Len walk out now, he’d never see his one-time nemesis again, and he couldn’t bear the thought of that.

“Wait,” he cried, throwing the duvet back and swinging his legs over the side if the bed as if he was going to be able to run after Len.

Len turned, and seemed amused by Barry’s desperation. “Yes, Scarlet? Do need me to play nursemaid some more?”

Barry flailed for an explanation that might make Len stay and came up empty. “Just, you don’t have to leave? I don’t mind. You being here, I mean.”

“I don’t know if it escaped your notice, but there’s only one bed,” Len said, gesturing to encompass the whole apartment. He quirked an eyebrow, “Are you offering to cuddle?”

Barry flushed, he hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe, maybe you could stay just until tonight? Please?”

Barry thought it might have been the please that did Len in, because he sighed as if it was a huge request and let his bag drop back to the floor. “I suppose I could do that. Should probably make sure you don’t fall on your face again anyway.”

Barry made a face at the gentle dig, but Len was already walking away from him, heading to the kitchen to dig through the fridge.

“Do you want anything then?” he asked, “If I’m going to hang out for a while?”

Barry’s stomach growled at the thought of food. He’d barely been hungry since the fight, but now he was starving. “Yeah, that would be great, thanks.”

Len bustled around the small kitchen, making appreciative noises as he discovered different things that Caitlin and Joe had brought. Barry watched him unabashedly. Even in domestic tasks like this he was controlled, every movement precise and efficient. And the way his black jeans clung to his hips as he bent over, that wasn’t bad either. In no time at all, he was returning with a plate piled high with several types of sandwiches in one hand and, was that chocolate milk in the other?

Barry crossed his legs under the blanket and Len put the plate in the bed, then handed him the glass. It was indeed chocolate milk, thick and sweet. Barry smiled as he took a sip. Joe had probably included it because it was something Barry had always wanted when he was sick, but for Len to choose it was just too perfect. He took a sandwich, roast beef with a touch more grainy mustard than he would have liked, but otherwise good. Without putting it down, he gestured at the pile still left on the plate.

“This is quite the feast, think you made enough?” he asked.

Len smirked at him. “You forget, I’ve seen you eat, Flash.”

Barry’s face fell and he looked down at his lap. “Yeah, about that. I’m not. I don’t have my powers right now. I’m just plain old Barry Allen. That’s why—,” he waved his free hand at his battered body.

“Ah, I was wondering about that. Usually you’re so quick to bounce back.”

Barry gave a half smile at the pun. This at least hadn’t changed. “Do you want any?”

Len snorted. “You think I made all those and didn’t intend to eat any of them?”

Barry took another bite and gestured to the end of the bed with his sandwich. Len sat carefully. They ate in a silence that was comfortable, if not entirely companionable. Barry’s mind wandered to the last time they had eaten together. The only time, really, unless you counted the fries he had stolen off Len’s plate in Saints and Sinners “eating together.”

It had been two years ago — was it really that long? It seemed like a lifetime ago— when he’d borrowed Len from the timeline to help stop Savitar. They’d done all the planning and preparation they could do before they broke into ARGUS, and all that remained was to wait for the designated time. Cisco had ordered pizza, in an effort to break the tension, but it hadn’t really worked. Barry had been too keyed up, and he was pretty sure Len had sussed out the reason he’d plucked him from the timeline when he did.

This was much better, quieter, without the looming threat of death and destruction. Well, unless you counted the shadowy paramilitary arms dealers that had caused all this, but Barry was trying _not_ to think of them while he was stuck here, unable to do anything about them.  He finished his sandwich and looked at Len, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he did. I hadn’t escaped his notice that the man hadn’t really answered any of his questions about what had happened to him, but Barry didn’t know how to broach the topic without making him freeze up and possibly leave.

“So, where are you going to go?” he asked finally.

Len tilted his head and eyed Barry, consideringly. “Planning on keeping tabs on me?”

“No!” Barry exclaimed, “I just know what it’s like, coming back. Everything’s different.”

Len blinked slowly, like a cat. “You’re not wrong about that. To be honest I’m not sure what’s next. If I want to get back in the game I’ll have to build a new crew,” Barry leaned forward to break in, and Len waved him off with a roll of his eyes, “and that doesn’t quite have the same appeal it once did. I don’t think I’m a Legend anymore either. I thought I might take some time to enjoy the spoils of a less than legal livelihood.”

Barry looked around the apartment, with its mismatched furniture. “This is your spoils? You don’t even have a TV”

Len smiled. “No, kid, this is a place to lie low without attracting any undue attention. And there’s nothing here I wouldn’t mind walking away from and never seeing again,” he paused and looked at Barry. The tip of his tongue flickered between his lips. “And I do have a TV, I just put it in the storage locker. You can never be too careful. There are thieves about, you know.”

Barry snickered. Before he could continue his questioning, Len turned the tables.

“So what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at STAR Labs, surrounded by your team while they patch you up?”

Barry looked away. “We think the Lab is bugged. And they know who I am. Everyone else is safe for now, but I needed somewhere to recover for a few weeks, and it had to be somewhere no one would expect me to be.”

“In the literal den of a thief, I think you succeeded at that.” Len said, “I can’t say I’m surprised you got hacked. I could get through your security system in my sleep. But what about your lovely Ms West? Shouldn’t she be here, making you sandwiches and keeping you company?”

Barry grimaced, “She’s with Joe, and she’s not my fiancée anymore. We, I, decided we were better off as friends and partners. I spent some time in the speedforce, and I saw things there. Possible futures maybe. And she always ended up hurt. How could I do that to her? I’ll always love her, but,” he trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

Len gave him a sympathetic nod. “So you did what you had to do.”

“I suppose. It seemed like it at the time, and we’re mostly okay now, but it felt almost cruel at the time. Cold. Like something you would do.” He paused, “Like something you did do. That night at the airfield; telling me how awful you were.”

Len flashed his teeth, “I didn’t lie though, did I?”

Barry answered his grin, enjoying the familiar back and forth. “No, but I was still right. There is good in you.”

Len pursed his lips, but didn’t contradict him.

“What, you aren’t going to disagree, try to convince me you’re a big bad thief? And you might be thinking of going straight? I guess death really does change you.”

“Without change something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken,” Len murmured.

Barry blinked for a moment as he placed the reference. “Dune?”

Len’s eyes widened as if he hadn’t even been aware of speaking, let alone expected Barry to know the words. He gestured at the couch, where his book lay abandoned, “I was reading it earlier. It always sticks with me.”

Barry nodded. “I know what you mean. I remember driving Joe up the wall, quoting it for three weeks straight when I first read it in middle school.”

Len smiled, “I bet you did.”

“Apparently they’re making a new movie out of it, but nothing can compare to the original.” Len gave him a blank look. “Frank Herbert’s Dune? The David Lynch classic?” You’ve never seen it?” He shook his head with a broad grin. “I cannot allow you to leave here until we’ve fixed this”

Len raised an eyebrow at him, but Barry was already pulling the laptop from the bedside table and booting it up.

“Do you ever not get your way?” Len mused.

Barry shot him a sunny grin, “Frequently. But I’m a sad and pathetic invalid right now, so you have to do what I want, isn’t that how it works?”

Len shook his head, “Something like that.” He stood and collected the plate, somewhat diminished but still piled with sandwiches, and took it back to the kitchen while Barry pulled up the movie from his hard drive. Barry barely heard him as he headed out the door with a “Be right back.”

His goal acquired, Barry looked up to find Len gone and the door open. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where he had gone. Wanting to prevent a repeat performance of earlier, Barry grabbed his crutches and hopped over to the couch. He plopped down in the same spot Len had taken. When he leaned back against the couch, the fur trim of the parka tickled against his face. It smelled nice.

True to his word, Len reappeared almost as soon as Barry had sat down. He was pushing a small wheeled table with a tv on top. He smirked when he saw Barry sitting in his spot. Barry gave him his best definitely-not-sniffing-your-clothes look. He didn’t think Len was fooled, but he didn’t say anything while he plugged the TV in and connected the laptop.

Len sat on the other end of the couch from Barry. Barry grinned at him as he leaned forward and pressed play. He spent almost as much time watching the other man’s reactions as he did the sweeping, slightly surreal movie. He obviously wasn’t as subtle about it as he thought, because when he turned his head to hide his blush at the infamous winged speedo scene Len chuckled, which only made him blush harder.

“That’s what does it for you?” he asked teasingly.

Barry scowled to hide his embarrassment. “I had a crush on Sting when I was younger.”

Len smirked at him, “So does that mean Cisco’s not fitting you for a new Flash suit with wings and not much else?”

Barry made a face, “No, definitely not.”

“Too bad,” Len pursed his lips, “It would certainly be distracting. Might give you an advantage.”

This time Barry’s blush had an entirely different origin, and he turned resolutely back to the movie. It was one of his favourites, but he’d forgotten just how long it was, and he found himself shifting uncomfortably, trying to find an angle to sit at that didn’t make his injuries ache. Eventually Len sighed and and gestured for Barry to swing his feet up on the couch.  

“Sorry,” Barry said, but didn’t move.

Len rolled his eyes and pulled Barry’s legs up and onto his lap, taking care not to pull too hard on his bad knee. Barry yelped, but didn’t pull away once Len had him settled. It was kind of nice, the way Len rested his hand on Barry’s leg, and they watched the rest of the movie in comfortable silence.

When it was over, Barry nudged Len with his foot and asked, “So, what did you think? Pretty great, huh.”

Len considered for a moment. “It was something alright”

Barry groaned, “Aw, c’mon. You can’t tell me that wasn’t an amazing movie.”

“Impatient, are we?” Len drawled. “How about I tell you what I think in the morning, once I’ve had a chance to soak it all in.”

A thrill ran through Barry at Len’s words, but the man gave no indication that he realised what he had said, instead gesturing for Barry to pass him the laptop. He scrolled through the catalogue, eyes widening periodically at some of the titles.  

“Are these you, or Mr Ramon?” he asked.

Barry smiled, “Little of both. See anything you like?”

Len gave him a long look, and Barry felt another blush threatening to rise to his cheeks, but Len turned back to the screen and pulled up a file, “This one?” he asked.

“Star Trek?” Barry asked.

“Don’t like it? I can choose another,” Len went back to the menu.

“No, it’s fine. Just surprising, I wouldn’t have guessed it was your type of movie.”

Len raised an eyebrow. “There’s plenty you don’t know about me,” he said archly.

“So Star Trek, huh?”

“Yes. It’s always been an escape for me. These new movies focus more on the adventure than the science and philosophy of the original, but there are other features that make up for that.” His lascivious grin left no doubt which features he was talking about.

Barry covered his face with a hand. He’d never imagined he’d be here, sitting with Leonard Snart talking about movies and the prettiness of Chris Pine. “Go for it,” he said, through his hand, “but I think we’re going to need supplies if we want to last all the way through.”

Len sighed, “I suppose that means you want me to go fetch them?”

Barry smirked at him, “Unless you’d like to see how well I can carry snacks and crutches at the same time. And clean up after I dump everything on the floor.”

Len sighed again as if Barry was asking the world of him. He stood, gently putting Barry’s legs back on the couch in his empty spot, and headed for the kitchen. Barry watched him go, then shook his head to clear it. He should probably enjoy this time for what it was and not treat it like one of his fantasies.

Instead he pulled out the burner phone and called Caitlin. She picked up almost before the first ring had finished.

“Hi Barry, Is everything all right so far?” she asked.

Barry leaned his head back onto the back of the couch.”Yeah, Cait, I’m fine.”

From the kitchen, Len called, “Sandwiches ok again, or does the invalid want chicken and stars?”

“Who’s that?” Caitlin asked, her voice sharp, “Did they find you?”

“No, no!” Barry stammered. “Just the TV. I’m watching movies. I swear I’m ok.”

“Alright, if you’re sure. Talk to you tomorrow.” Barry hung up, strangely relieved to be done with the conversation.

Len deposited the food on a small folding table and sat back down. They sat closer than they had before, and ran a running commentary through the movie. It was fun. Barry had always known Len had a cutting sense of humour, but seeing him relaxed this, just enjoying himself instead of using it as a weapon was something entirely new.

When Spock Prime rescued Kirk on the ice planet, Len went quiet.

“I never thought I’d come back,” he said.

It took a moment for Barry to realise what he was talking about. “You died a hero’s death, giving yourself for your team,” he said.

Len snorted, “Maybe. But I didn’t really die, did I?”

Barry was quiet for a moment, then decided to ask the question that had been burning at the back of his mind ever since Len had appeared. “So what happened?”

Len sighed and flopped back into the couch. “I don’t know. You said you were in the Speed Force? I think maybe it was something similar for me, but with Time. I was everywhen. I saw things, possible timelines I guess. You marrying Iris, but there were Nazis, and did you go to jail?” Barry had to look away at that.

“Sometimes I was just watching, other times it was like I was really there. And now here I am. Didn’t even think it was real at first, but it just kept going, so I suppose it must be.”

Barry knew he should say something, but he was still stuck on the idea that Len had seen him in jail. He’d had a dream there that had seemed so real. Had it been? No, that was impossible. He stammered something that he hoped sounded sympathetic, but Len seemed lost in thought. Barry patted his arm awkwardly, then grabbed his crutches and set about getting ready for bed. When he finally settled in for the night, Len was still sitting on the couch, staring off into space.


	4. Boredom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being trapped in a tiny apartment with nothing to do maybe isn't so bad after all.

Len was still there the next morning, flipping pancakes with the same calm efficiency that he  used for everything else. The simple domesticity of it made Barry feel warm in a way he never would have associated with Len before. He snagged one of his crutches and hobbled his way over to the small table. The chairs were much better from this angle than they were as climbing apparatus. 

Len brought him a plate of pancakes, and Barry dug in with relish. He felt good, more like himself than he had since his injuries. Len joined him, and they chatted, nothing heavy, just casual conversation. Len made noises about leaving, finding a place where he could kick back and relax for a while while he decided what to do with his unexpected second chance at life, but somehow he just kept staying. 

It was strange how comfortable it was, being there with him. Having him making most of the food was certainly nice, but it was more than that. Barry felt like he could just relax and be himself in a way that he couldn’t with most people. Without the competition between them, making every word drip with meaning, things were easier somehow, although Barry could still sense something unspoken simmering in the air. It just didn’t seem as important as it once had. 

Despite his talk of leaving, Len busied himself with various things around the apartment while Barry flitted, if awkward hopping on one crutch can be called flitting, from thing to thing. He’d never been good at sitting still, even before his speed, and this was probably the longest he’d had to sit in one place other than his stint in jail. He shied away from that memory. Maybe a shower instead. 

He managed, barely, to shower without falling and disgracing himself again, although Len chided him, saying he hadn’t put that tub in there for Barry to kill himself trying to stand up in it. He did feel better afterward, but it wasn’t long before he was groaning and throwing his book down on the table. He wanted to run, to go hunting for the arms dealers, to do anything. 

Len sighed and put his phone down. “What is it now, Scarlet?” 

Barry threw his head back, rubbing his hands over his face. His good leg was bouncing under the table, but he didn’t try to stop it. “I hate this. I don’t know how I’m going to last two weeks.”

Barry kept his hands over his face, but he could practically hear Len’s smirk, “Not used to slowing down to mere mortal speeds?”

Barry shot him a dark look, “It’s more than that. I should be helping. Instead I’m here. Sitting. We don’t know who these guys are. Everyone could be in danger and I’m not doing anything to stop it.” 

“Looks to me like you’re keeping yourself out of the way while you heal so they can focus on what they need to do,” Len said. 

Barry sighed, “You’re right, I just, I wish I could do more. Come up with a plan, even.”

Len laced his fingers together. “Well then, if it’ll stop you from bouncing until you hurt yourself or put a hole in the floor, let’s get started. What do you know about them?”

Barry blinked. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Len might be willing to help with this too. He launched into an explanation of the whole sorry business. The tip from Oliver, the weapons they thought were passing through Central City, the meet that went wrong. Len called it a trap as soon as barry told him what he remembered of that night, and looking back on it, Barry couldn’t disagree. He talked about the flowers and the nanites that Cisco thought might have been from ARGUS at one point.

Len didn’t say much, just listened. He cocked his head when Barry mentioned the flowers. When Barry finished, he dropped his head to the table in exasperation. Len hmmed, then without warning, pushed himself back from the table and declared he needed to go out. Barry stared after him. What had happened to coming up with a plan? 

He looked around the apartment, but nothing seemed appealing. Finally he decided to see if Cisco had put any games on the laptop. He settled himself down in what he was starting to think of as his spot on the couch, the fur of Len’s parka brushing the back of his neck and reminding him that the man was definitely coming back. 

He ended up falling asleep before Len returned. He heard the key in the lock and turned bleary eyes towards the door, but he was offered no explanation, just a steady arm to help him to his own bed so Len could once again sleep on the couch.

* * *

So it went for what seemed like forever, but was actually less than a week. Barry tried and failed to keep himself busy and to distract himself from his ever increasing boredom and frustration at being trapped in a basement, while Len did inscrutable things, disappearing for minutes or hours with hardly a word. But when he did return he was attentive and kind, helping Barry without making him feel like a burden. One afternoon he came back with an armload of used board games and they spent the rest of the day sinking one another’s battleships. 

Gradually, Barry’s injuries eased. He still had to be careful with himself, but he could get around better, and the dizzy spells from his concussion were almost gone. He stopped taking the pills Caitlin had given him, and found that he was much less tired and prone to sudden onset napping, but that meant more time spent awake, waiting. The better he felt physically, the harder it got to stay in the apartment, and the more he missed his speed. 

On the fifth evening, out of sheer desperation, he decided to try making Joe’s favourite gumbo recipe. He had most of the ingredients, but he sent Len out for a few things and got to work, doing his best to remember what order the steps needed to be in. When Len returned, Barry banished him from the kitchen, determined that this at least was something he could do on his own. 

Len just laughed and sat at the table, offering a running commentary as Barry worked. Barry returned the teasing, feeling better than he had in days. When he sat to rest his knee while the gumbo simmered, Len nodded his head at the kitchen area. “Is it safe to go in not, Chef?”

“Not if you’re going to touch my food,” Barry shot back. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Len stood up from the table in one fluid motion and went straight to the cupboard for a tall pitcher. Barry watched as he pulled ice, lemonade, and fruit from the fridge, then mixed it all up with a generous splash of something from a brown bottle. In no time at all he brought the pitcher over and poured Barry a glass. 

“I’m not much of a drinker,” Barry said as he took the glass, “Doesn’t affect me.” He examined the concoction. There were muddled blackberries in the bottom, and what looked like mint floating near the top. It did look refreshing. He took a sip. It was delicious. And boozy. He felt the burn, unexpected but not entirely unpleasant, all the way down his throat to his belly.

“Doesn’t it?” Len asked, clearly stifling a laugh. 

Barry could have kicked himself. Without his powers, his metabolism was normal. He’d been taking medication all week that normally wouldn’t have any effect, and hadn’t ever thought what other changes that might mean. He grinned and tipped his glass to Len, who returned the salute. “To the benefits of being normal,” he said, and took another, larger sip. 

The drink turned out to pair very well with the gumbo, which Len declared to be excellent, but Barry knew was still missing something. After dinner, Len made more drinks, and Barry declared that it was time to see who could find the best worst movie. Len pointed out that Barry had an unfair advantage, since he’d had a hand in choosing the movies on the laptop, but Barry just gave him an arch look and said that he should be used to being a step behind by now. The effect was probably ruined by the fit of giggles he fell into as soon as he made his pronouncement.

Barry conceded the first choice to Len, provided he keep the drinks coming. He was pleasantly buzzed, things just slightly fuzzy at the edges and all his remaining aches and pains smoothed and forgotten. He wanted to draw the feeling out as long as possible. Len took his time picking a movie, and meanwhile Barry shifted towards the centre of the couch so he could put his drink on the small folding table without having to lean over to reach it.  

Len started the movie with a triumphant sound and raised an eyebrow at Barry, daring him to say anything. Barry read the title card aloud “Cannibal Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death? Solid choice. Don’t think it’s a winner though.”

“Just watch the movie.” Barry smiled into his drink at the now-familiar teasing and did as he was told, although neither of them were quiet for long, there were too many things to mock.

By the time it was over, Barry found he had slumped over sideways and was leaning up against Len, shoulder to shoulder. It probably should have been weird, but like so many things these past few days, just felt warm and comfortable. Instead of moving, he just reached out with grabby hands for the laptop until Len passed it to him so he could make his own choice. He already knew what he wanted, so it was only a moment before  _ They Saved Hitler’s Brain  _ was splashed across the screen. He smiled up at Len, and definitely did not snuggle in closer to him.

It might have been the drinks, or the exertion of actually doing something after so much idle time, or the staggering awfulness of the movie, but Barry found himself unable to follow the plot at all.  He let himself slide into Len. He smelled good, and Barry nuzzled into his chest with a contented sigh. Len swung his arm up and rested it, warm and heavy over Barry’s shoulders. He could hear the steady thump of Len’s heart, and his eyes drifted closed. 

He felt a hand running through his hair, and he leaned into the sensation. The fingers scratched at his scalp, making his skin tingle. He turned and blinked up at Len. He was very close. His eyes were so blue, and the dark lashes that framed them were incredibly long. Barry felt like he was falling. 

Len gave Barry’s shoulder a squeeze, and Barry realised he’d said something that Barry hadn’t heard. 

“Wha?” he asked, and some small part of his brain kicked his lack of eloquence. 

“I said, you’re falling asleep,” Len repeated softly. 

Barry did his best to burrow closer. “‘S’ok. I’m comfy.”

Len smoothed a stray bit of hair back from his face, “You are now, but you don’t want to sleep here.”

“Why not?” Barry couldn’t think, not with those eyes so close. How could they be so blue? 

“Because,” Len said with a smile. He seemed, softer somehow, some of the ice gone from his expression. Barry wondered what it would take to get him to thaw the rest of the way. He wanted to try. Len’s eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. He’d said something else that Barry hadn’t heard. Maybe he should go to bed, if he couldn’t even follow a complete sentence. He really didn’t want to move though. 

He tried pushing himself more upright, but only ended up bringing their faces closer together.

Oh.

It was like gravity, the way they came together. Slow, inevitable, and gradually building in intensity as they melted into it. Barry couldn’t say whose tongue opened whose mouth, but when Len sucked his bottom lip into his mouth he made a needy noise in the back of his throat. Len’s hand was in his hair, and Barry keened when he tugged on it to get a better angle.

Barry opened himself to whatever Len had to give him, drinking it down even as his own hands sought skin, finding their way under Len’s shirt to curl around the curve of his waist. Len jumped slightly at the contact but didn’t pull away, and Barry kept going, his fingertips dipping under the waistband of Len’s jeans. 

Len released Barry’s mouth and started a trail of biting kisses along the edge of his jaw until he found a spot just under his ear that made Barry gasp and arch into him. 

“Len,” he groaned, as Len attacked the spot with teeth and tongue. 

“Yes, Scarlet?” Len murmured into his skin, his lis ghosting over the shell of Barry’s ear. 

Barry gripped Len’s hip, pulling helplessly at it. “I want. Can we?” 

Len gave his ear another little lick and moved down the big tendon in his neck. “What do you want?” he asked between nips. “Tell me.”

“You,” Barry breathed, “I want you.” 

Len made a noise that was half groan and half growl. “Yes,” he said, resting his forehead against Barry’s neck. His breath was coming in short pants. “But not here.” 

Barry nodded happily as he sat up. Not here meant bed, and bed meant— he lost his train of thought as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He swayed in his seat. 

Len put a hand on his shoulder. “All good there?”

“‘M ok. Just dizzy. You should prob’ly put me to bed.” A giggle bubbled up and he tried to hide it behind his hand.

Len looked him up and down, his face unreadable. “I think that’s probably a good idea,” he said. He helped Barry to his feet and across the short distance to the bed, fending off roaming hands the whole way. Barry slipped eagerly under the covers, but gave Len a confused pout when he tucked the blankets up under his chin. 

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want?”

Len answered with a kiss, hot and desperate and all too brief, before tilting their foreheads together. Their breath mingled in the scant space between them. “I want,” he said, “But someone told me that just taking what I want is wrong.”

Barry clutched at Len, but Len caught his hand and held it tight. “You’re drunk, Barry. I don’t want you to regret this in the morning. I couldn’t- I don’t want that.”

“Oh,” Barry said, softly, then brightened. “Can we do more kisses tomorrow? I like kissing you Leonard Snart.”

Len smiled and kissed Barry’s forehead. “Sure. Tomorrow.” He pulled away. Barry held on to his hand as long as he possibly could without falling out of the warm cocoon of blankets Len had made for him, then watched as Len went back to the couch and started making up his own bedding. He seemed very far away.

“Hey,” he called, waving his outstretched hand at Len.

“Yes?” Len replied, turning his head from the sheet he was tucking around the couch cushions.

“You sh’ld sleep here. In the bed.” Barry patted the empty space next to him for emphasis. “Not fair to be stuck on the couch.”

Len rolled his eyes. “I’m not sleeping with you tonight. You’re drunk, remember?”

Barry gave him his best puppy dog face, which in his inebriated state was mostly just comically widened eyes. “I’ll be good, promise. Just sleep. Please?” 

Len’s head sagged between his shoulders and he sighed, muttering under his breath, but he dropped his bedding and padded over to the bed and slipped under the covers on the far side. Barry made a contented noise and reached for him. Cuddling wasn’t against the rules, was it?

BZZZZTT

Barry’s head jerked up. Shit. He hadn’t checked in. He scrambled for the phone, almost dropping it in the process. 

“H’llo?”

Joe’s voice came over the other end of the line and suddenly Barry was 14 again. “Barry, what happened, you were supposed to call two hours ago!”

Barry ran a hand over his face, trying to gather his thoughts enough to give an appropriate answer. One that didn’t involve him propositioning a supposedly dead onetime criminal mastermind.   
  
“Sorry. I uh, didn’ check the time.” His eyes flicked over to where Len was laying beside him, eyes wary.   
  
“You sound strange, are you sure you’re ok?” Joe asked and not for the first time Barry silently wondered what he’d ever done to deserve such an annoyingly perceptive father figure.   
  
“I’m fine, I promise. Jus’ a little drunk.” Now Len was smirking at him. Jerk.   
  
“Drunk, Barry? What?”   
  
Shit, Barry couldn’t remember where Len had gotten the liquor. Was it already in the cabinet when he’d arrived? “Was bored. ‘N I can drink now. But I think I sh’ld go to bed.”   
  
The note of concern was still in Joe’s voice as he agreed and reminded Barry to drink some water, but he let Barry go without further interrogation. Barry let the phone drop to his chest with a sigh of relief.  He wanted to bury his head under the blankets and never come up for air. He hadn’t technically done anything wrong, but he still felt like a kid caught sneaking out of his room at night.   
  
He snuck a peek at Len, who was still laughing silently.   
  
“What’s so funny?” he grumbled.   
  
“You look like you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar. You should just be glad I turned you down.”   
  
The thought of Joe calling if he and Len had continued in the direction they’d been heading flashed sickeningly through Barry’s mind, and he actually did pull the blanket over his head. “Ugh, don’t even make me think about that,” he groaned.   
  
Len chuckled. “Goodnight, Scarlet.”   
  
Barry blushed furiously under the blanket at the fond tone in his voice, and only poked his head out once he felt Len turn away from him and settle in for the night. He could hear him breathing, and he seemed at once very close and far too far away. He had a brief thought that it would keep him up all night before sleep pulled him under.  

**Author's Note:**

> I have a few more chapters written and am working on the last two, so I'm hoping to stick to a regular posting schedule. 
> 
> Concrit is welcome, and comments are ❤️❤️❤️


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